A Tale of Fur, Couches, and Glory

We have a long-haired dog.  You may remember the drama of our receiving her into our home last summer.  Turns out she gets just as stinky as every other dog.  I mean, I didn't expect a stink-free dog, but a girl can dream.  The dream was just a dream.

She was stink-y.  Stinky.  Last night she came in the office and the kids shut her in here with me.  Seriously, she about knocked me out with her doggie odor.

You know what this means, don't you?

Bath time.

I worked last night until just before midnight and this morning Darling inadvertently woke me up, so after 5 hours of sleep, I was up for the day.  Yes, that was a run-on sentence and I could not care less so deal, okay?

The dog needed a bath and we were both awake.  The kids were still asleep.  Kinda.  Little One got out of bed, but she was tucked back in and sleeps as I type.  Amen.

Now, I don't know how the rest of the world does it, but when it's 28-degrees outside, my dog takes a shower with me.  I am not going outside with a hose, getting all wet in the dark, in the freezing cold.

So, kid toy bucket in hand, I snatched up the dog by her scruff and we took a shower.  She got clean after multiple passes with a child's beach bucket.  When we're done, I grabbed a towel and started drying, drying, drying her.  Fat lot of good it did with all that fur.

When I opened the door of the shower, she glanced back at me, then stepped gingerly out of the shower... and took off like a shot.

She made a beeline for her food bowl.  Dripping wet.

I followed her with the towel.

So there I was sopping wet in my kitchen, in all the glory in which the Lord delivered me unto my parents, woolling around a dog with an old towel, trusting the Lord wouldn't use this as one of those "the Lord has such a sense of humor moments" with my sons.  Thank God, the boys were still asleep and did not walk in on that scene.

Then I remembered a friend offered us her white couch.  It's almost new, but they're redecorating and are passing it on and she gave us first right of refusal.

I stood up in my kitchen, stock still like a deer caught in headlights - about as dressed as one, too - and shuddered at the thought of wet, long, dog fur rubbed alllll up and down the sides of that white couch.

Maybe God's sense of humor right now is shocking me with these visions of domestic havoc?

I'm going to pass on the couch.

Unless I can slipcover it.  Thoughts?

So there's the tale of fur, couches, and glory.

~ G